Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty. ‘And I am very glad you did this bad thing, because if not, who would take care of me?’ Martha shook her head, and Melusine spied wetness again in her eyes, although they met hers bravely.
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